Sleep Paralysis *{temporary inability to move or speak while falling asleep or upon waking.} Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing and favoriting this story despite my random hiatuses. Lilly, especially, thank you for motivating me to continue this story.
Heated steam embraces the battered woman. Elle extends her arm. She checks the temperature by letting the water flow off her palm. For a moment this provides her with comfort. "You really are pretty." The hot breath of William Lee touched the back of her neck. She nearly rips the handle off the shower as she yanks it to a colder setting. Her bottom lip involuntarily quivers while shallow breaths moved from her mouth. F— she swears at the relapse of what she believed to be a passing weakness. A salty tear graced her lip. God, get over yourself.
She climbs into the chilled sprinklers of water and forms a sitting position. Her eyes gawk at the bottom of the tub. The water changes its hue as it comes in contact with her skin. Red never looked so ugly. She thought. Not the maroon pigment of sweet wine, but the unappealing red of a crushed ladybug. The color clashed against a tacky blue as it forms a diluted stream on the floor of the bathtub. Elle pulls her knees to her chest, and protectively wraps her arms around them. She watches as the unappealing debris of dirt and blood swirl around the drain. She stares at this repetitive action until the only thing that washes away is clear water. Reaching out, she turns the metal nozzle off.
Water drips onto a dingy bath mat as Elle steps out of the stained tub. She grabs the semi-damp towel that rests on the edge of the sink, quickly pulling it over herself. Her legs feel numb as she forces herself forward. Looking up from the floor, she catches her appearance in the mirror and a hollow laugh escapes her mouth. She looks completely exhausted. Her face lacks color. Heavy bags drape under her eyes. While her forearms had a bluish-red hue from scrubbing her skin raw while being submerged in a cold temperature.
Her attention went to the gangly purple cut. She hisses as she graces the stitches that hold together the flesh below her brow. "Ungrateful little—" She sighs. I just need some sleep. She takes another look at herself before slipping on some pajamas. Just forget about it. She told herself. Don't think about it and you'll get over it.
With a thud, her foot collided with the post of the bed. Wincing, she looked up from the floor to the seafoam duvets. She could almost feel the bristles from the tight rope, sawing through the skin of her wrists. His brea—No. Suck it up. She walked over to the mini-fridge and pulled out a pint-sized bottle of vodka. She devours the burning liquid. Then faces the bed again. "God you're so"— Sighing, she returns to the fridge. She repeats the process over and over until the only thing she could think of was the moving wallpaper. Wait, wallpaper doesn't move? She wobbles as she sunk into the twin bed. Her eyes focus on the popcorn ceiling. It reminded her of crumpled paper that was spread out to reveal a derogatory insult spelled out in red ink. Elle frowns at the repressed childhood memory. Groaning, she remains flat on her back, gripping the covers slightly.
The bathroom light illuminates the ceiling like a void. Like a bleak, ominous aura. The same aura begins to creep around her. The hair on the back of her neck stood up when cheap cologne grazed her nostrils. Not again. Swearing she attempts to jerk up but her body doesn't move. It felt as if a transparent entity weighed itself on her chest. Leaving her trapped. Every vulgar swear escapes her mouth. Her heartbeat exhilarated. Spit floods from her jaw, and pools into her mouth with a nauseating effect. In the complete darkness, she felt a presence. I'm going to die, I'm going to die. I'm going to die! He's here to kill me. He's going to kill me. Her chest convulses as tears stream uncontrollably. That's when she sees him. The man that would soon be in every night terror she would ever have. William Lee stood at the foot of the bed. F—
"Stuck I see," he croaks in a hoarse whisper.
She internally shakes her head as if it'll prevent what she knew was going to happen. Please don't do this. She couldn't even beg for her sanity. She was as powerless as she was in his apartment. Having to relinquish control over to a demon. A loud pop echoes in her ear. She quickly shut her eyes before a warm liquid splatter on her face. On the tip of her nose, she could see the red blood. She tightened her vice-like hold on the cover, slowly peeling her eyes open, but Lee was gone. And she could move.
She leaped from the bed and sprinted to the bathroom. Slamming the door, she scurries backward until her back hits the tub. Panting, she cowers into herself. Elle sat with eyes fixated on the bathroom door in wait for her monster to come.